steer Violet in the opposite direction of the crowded stage. “Detour.”
She huffs a soft laugh but doesn’t protest. Probably because she knows me well enough to expect it by now.
Pumpkin-shaped lanterns light the path as we weave through the thinning fairgrounds, where vendor booths are closing up for the night and cornhole sets sit abandoned in the dark. Groups of rowdy students pass by, the foot traffic heading toward the sound of the live band playing.
“Where are we going?”
“For a walk,” I say. “It’s a nice night out.”
“Uh-huh,” Violet says, biting back a smile.
It’s completely dark by the time we step out of the part of campus reserved for Fall Fest. I guide her over to a bench tucked away in the alcove of the library building, partially hidden by some trees. A streetlight shines through the branches above us, casting us in a pale circle of light.
I don’t know what my plan is; don’t have a real plan other than trying to get her alone.
“You didn’t have to be so mean to Preston.” She sinks onto the bench, angling her body to face me, and gives me her famous, “you’re an asshole” face. I’m on the receiving end of it a lot, generally warranted.
“Someone has to send him the message, and it doesn’t seem like you’re going to be the one to do it,” I say pointedly, setting down our drinks. “But can we not talk about him? I’ve barely seen you alone since . . .”
“. . . the bedroom incident?” she finishes, arching a blonde eyebrow.
“You weren’t complaining at the time.”
“I’m not complaining now.” Violet’s wide eyes search my face, her full lips slightly parted. I used to be able to read her so easily but I can’t right now, and I hate it. “It’s just a lot. You’re a lot.”
“Not trying to be, Vi. I just fucking missed you.”
Over two years later, I still haven’t been able to replicate the chemistry I have with her. With every other girl, there’s always the ever-present knowledge in the back of my mind that I’m not as into it as they are. A looming sense that something is off, a pervasive need to escape. My mind inevitably starts to wander, and I find myself thinking about hockey or school or a million things other than what I should be focused on.
I never lose my focus on Violet.
“You’re beautiful.” I brush a lock of hair off her forehead, and a soft smile forms on her lips, her expression shifting into one that I know well. Cupping her chin, I bring my mouth to hers. Her long, dark lashes lower, her breath a gentle puff of air against my skin. I pause, savoring the moment between the kiss and the before.
Anticipation wracks my body from head to toe until my hands nearly tremble with need. As if drawn by magnetism, our lips crash together and my entire world lights up, a rush of desire surging through my veins. Violet lets out a little sigh, parting her lips, and my tongue sweeps against hers, our mouths moving in perfect synchrony. She tastes fucking delicious, like spiked apple cider and traces of cotton candy. But there’s an undercurrent of bittersweet, of lost chances and wasted time, and I only have myself to blame for that.
Emotions engulf me like tidal waves, overpowering and unrelenting. Desire, need, longing . . . Fear. But I have too much on the line to let that win. Two years is a long time to live in denial, and she’s erased it in a matter of weeks.
She shifts her weight and leans in, pressing her chest against mine. The contact sends my body from zero to one hundred in a heartbeat, an effect only she’s ever had. My hand slips beneath her coat, landing over her knit sweater, and she draws in a soft breath as I caress the familiar contour where her waist curves into her hip. It’s like it was created specifically for me to hold her right there.
My body says, her. This is the one, right here.
My brain says, you don’t deserve her.
And something clicks.
I know what’s been nagging at me lately.
This is it. I’m in. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll get her to give me another chance.
When we break apart, Violet’s a little glassy-eyed. Dazed, like she always gets when she’s aroused. From out of nowhere, her expression shifts into one of panic, sending me into it right along with her. What the hell?
Before I can ask her what’s wrong, her brows draw together, and she shakes her head.
“No, no, no.” She waves her hands, verging on frantic for reasons I still don’t understand. Safe to say, this is not a reaction any girl has ever had to kissing me before. “I can’t do this with you again.”
I rest my hand on her knee, trying to calm her. “Can we rewind for a second? Where is this coming from?”
“This is a bad idea. You, me. . . Us.” Her swallow is audible, and even in the low light, I can tell she’s fighting back tears.
If this is cold feet, I’m not having it.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”
Violet’s eyes flick up to mine, her face stricken. “I can’t lie, Nash. You know I do. But I’m not even allowed to be involved with you.” She pushes to stand and begins to head back in the direction we came.
Adrenaline coursing and frustration simmering, I grab our drinks and catch up with her in two strides, working to stay calm because a fight isn’t going to help my cause. That, and I’ve vowed never to be like him—to never lose control of my temper with someone I care about. For all our many arguments, I’ve never raised my voice to Violet, and I never will.
“Ward gave us the same spiel,” I tell her. “Doesn’t mean anything. They just want to make sure we don’t act like idiots and cause problems at school.”
She keeps walking, looking straight ahead, refusing to meet my eyes. “It’s still a rule.”
Dread grips me as the Fall Fest grounds come back into view, chords of music echoing in the distance. She’s traveling at an impressive clip given her short stature, and I’m nowhere near ready to go back and face everyone with this hanging unresolved.
“With all due respect, Vi, fuck that! Are you going to let some arbitrary rule dictate how you live your life?”
Her voice climbs. “It’s not arbitrary, it’s meant to keep things professional.”
“You and I know we crossed that line the day you started.”
“It’s not the same for me and you.” She throws up her hands. “You’d get a slap on the wrist; a talking-to at most. I could be disciplined, lose my internship credit, or worse.”
This is news to me. Violet has alluded to the rules here and there, but I assumed it was the same as it was for the team; window-dressing, a way to keep us in line without much teeth.
“Shit,” I mutter, scrubbing my jaw. “I’m sorry. I had no idea they took it that seriously for the interns.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You’re a hockey god. You could burn down the dining hall in broad daylight and the school would pretend it was an accident.”
It’s a little snarky, but in light of the situation, I choose to let it slide.
“There’s nothing you can do? You can’t ask to have me moved to someone else? Or I could, if you think that would play out better for you. I don’t care if I catch some shit on my end as long as you’re okay.” That’s my number one priority at this point: protecting her. I’m more than willing to take any blowback that could fall to me.
Besides, what are they going to do, suspend me from playing? Doubtful. Short of her “burning down the dining hall” scenario, the team needs me too much to do that.
Violet slows to a stop and takes a step back, keeping me more than an arm’s length away. I want nothing more than to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. My breath grows shallow, forcing me to consciously deepen it.
“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. Glancing down, she zips up her jacket, but I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse to avoid meeting my eyes. “It’s a bad look, at best. I’ll seem unprofessional for getting involved with one of the athletes. Or for wanting to, depending on what I tell them.”
“You’re telling me you can’t get involved with me because of this rule, even though there’s a simple solution staring you in the face? This feels like an excuse.”
“Look . . .” Violet trails off, looking behind me, and I know something bad is coming. “I can’t upend my reputation for nothing.”
The words hit me so hard, I feel like I just got blindsided with a check against the boards. By far, this is the harshest thing she’s ever said to me. My natural instinct is to be harsh back, and it’s taking serious self-control not to.
I huff, taking a sip of my beer. “Nothing? Damn, tell me how you really feel.”
“Can you really blame me?” her voice climbs. “After everything that’s happened, getting involved with you again is a gamble. The semester is only two more months. I just need some space until it ends.”
This sounds suspiciously similar to “taking a break.” No fucking thanks.
“Is that it?” I press, stepping closer and handing Violet her drink. She clutches it tightly, expression to match. “Or are you going to have a different reason then?”
Her lack of response says it all. I can’t believe this is happening. How the hell did we do a complete one-eighty in the span of ten seconds? My frustration reaches boiling point and despite my best efforts, some of it still escapes.
“I’m sure this rule doesn’t apply to Preston, does it?”
Violet fidgets with the sleeve of her coat. “Nash. That’s not it. Preston and I are just friends.”
Are they? And does he know that?
I snort. “What kind of friend is he when he clearly has ulterior motives? Nothing you can say will change the fact that he wants to fuck you.”
She props a hand on her hip, now in full-on defensive mode after my attack. “Kind of like you?”
It’s no big secret that I’m crazy attracted to Violet, but that isn’t the point at hand. I’m not in this to get laid; I could easily do that with someone else.
I resume walking, nodding for her to follow. Pissed as I am, the last thing I’m going to do is walk away and leave her standing here alone in the dark. Once I get her back to Julianna, though, I need to go take a long walk alone. Or go break something. Probably both.
“Difference is,” I say slowly, “I’m not going to pretend to be okay with being friends. Unlike Preston, I care about you too much to lie about what I want.”
“What is it that you want from me, Nash? Sex?”
It’s a slap in the face. I just told her I cared about her, and this is the response I get?
My shoulders stiffen, mouth opening and closing. Drawing in a slow breath, I exhale to the count of five, and swallow words that are better left unsaid.
I realize that I hurt her—and on some level, I know that’s where this is coming from—but it doesn’t make it sting any less. She can blame the internship all she wants, but when it comes down to it, she doesn’t think we’re worth the risk. And I’m not talking academically.
With a few more wordless steps, we reach the edge of the crowd, and Julianna throws Violet a wave.
“Forget it, Vi. It’s fine. You want space? You got it.” I turn and walk away before saying something I’ll regret.
